


someone great

by dinosaurspaceship



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-05
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 22:15:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26306188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dinosaurspaceship/pseuds/dinosaurspaceship
Summary: Well, everyone knows Logan lives in Season 1. What this story presupposes is... maybe he didn't.
Relationships: Gerri Kellman/Roman "Romulus" Roy
Comments: 15
Kudos: 64





	someone great

**Author's Note:**

> Got pretty wrapped up in this idea couldn't let it go until it was totally finished.

They had the whole high society thing in New York where they all “reflected” on the incredible life and man, and then flew to Scotland and did it all over again. Everything required so much planning and travel and coordination in such a short period of time that for a week after just waking up in one place for two days felt weird. 

There was a debt crisis, stock plummeted, and all of that was important but then he remembers, his dad is dead. Kendall, Gerri, Ava, Karl, all seem to pull the company out of a death spiral, in between funeral arrangements and allotments of the Trust and reading of his will.

Roman has always been a wealthy man, but that figure has now increased considerably. It’s not particularly tangible wealth, most of it still in various non-liquid assets, but it does feel slightly different. It didn’t make life any different day to day, but he has an awareness, like just fucking off to Fiji was always an option, but now it was Fiji plus Malibu and Bern and Bondi Beach and Seville. 

With everything that happened, he does feel lucky about certain things. That they had the two weeks when Logan was in the hospital to adjust before he took a turn for the worse prepared them in some way. That Kendall, Shiv and him had a chance to talk or fight through their issues before the worst of it also made things a little easier. All said and done, it was still the shittiest week of his life. So many faceless, nameless people talking about how great and powerful his father was, what big shoes they have to fill. At some point everyday, he thought about their last moments together, the last thing they did was fight, and how he spent their last day together trying to kill Frank, trying to get a better seat at the table. 

After two weeks as COO, everything has settled down, something crystalizes for Roman, he is in over his head and no one is going to save him. In the past, Logan would see him fuck up and stick a babysitter on him, but Kendall just seems to trust he will figure it out. He’s supposed to be doing so many things he doesn’t know how to do or just doesn’t care. When there was someone there watching him, they’d do it for him or let him try and clean up the mess. By himself, he finds he’s stuck between not wanting to try and screwing it up and not knowing who to ask for help without showing himself. At the end of the second week, Roman bites the bullet and calls Frank. 

Roman opens his pitch with, “How would you like to come back in as a consultant, set your price, we’ll match it?” 

He can’t bring himself to just ask outright for help.

“What exactly would I be consulting on?” 

The skepticism in Frank’s voice isn’t encouraging, but it wasn’t a flat out no so Roman tries for subtlety, not his strongest suit, “Corporate business practices, emphasis on managing operations.”

“Roman, I am happy to help in any way I can, this has to be a difficult time for everyone.” 

“See you in the office Monday morning then,” he hangs up before he can start to feel vaguely emotional about the whole thing. 

Over the next 4 months Roman has Frank by his side every day, providing advice, context, and back up. It feels different, having Frank there at his request rather than forced upon him. He’s not worrying about what he will report back to Logan or anyone else. Frank only reports to him. In the last four months he hasn’t tried to hide his fuck ups or ignorance, just lays it out there to work through with Frank. The trust and friendship they’ve developed is a little shocking, Roman surprises himself more and more each day with how normal he can be. 

They’re closing a deal in Atlanta, Frank, Karl and Roman. The negotiations went better than expected, they seemed to enjoy Roman’s sense of humor and were more excited about the deal than Waystar. Karl suggests celebratory drinks at the hotel bar before they catch a car to the airport. Roman regrets saying yes, after Karl finishes telling the world's second most boring golf story followed by the world's most boring story about tennis. 

Fearing they were settling in for another tale of the athletic desperation of a man in his early 60s, Roman interrupts with one of his favorite Frank stories from their time in LA. Three eyerolls in Frank is saved by a phone call. 

“Gerri,” he mouths to the group as he answers.

“Yeah, yes, all settled, signed in total,” he pauses to listen and then laughs fairly hard. 

“No, nothing like that here, he did good,” another pause and a hard laugh at whatever she just said.

Roman is 99.9% positive that those laughs are at his expense. There is no other reason for them if not a joke about his competency. Instead of actively listening to his own humiliation, Roman goes to the bar for another round, finds things to poke at until he sees Frank get off the phone. 

“Our presence is requested in the office tomorrow morning,” Frank announces when he returns. 

“Oh yeah? The barbarians at the gates?” 

“Something like that, Kendall wants to review some historical items he’s found inconsistencies in. Gerri didn’t seem too concerned.” He says it sort of flippantly like the last part was a joke. 

“Guess I’ll cancel my tea time.” Karl sighs. 

Roman calls his assistant to move his appointment with his trainer. He’s wealthy enough, single enough and childless enough where the weekend doesn’t mean a significant amount to him. But since taking on the COO job he has enjoyed a slow Saturday and Sunday to not be so focused. 

“If Gerri isn’t concerned why do we have to be in on a Saturday morning?” Roman asks, annoyance seeping through. 

“If Gerr was concerned, we’d likely all be booking flights to non-extradition countries. I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen Gerri be concerned about anything,” Karl mutters.

Frank smiles at that, “Unflappable. Unflappable is the word I’d go with. She said, and I quote, “Ken seems to want to get his nose dirty, I’d rather it be with the cocaine again but what can you do.” So, take that for whatever it’s worth.” 

It makes Roman laugh a little. It’d make him like her more if he didn’t also know she likely said the same shit about him. A slight queasiness overtakes him. He’s never had to think about how Gerri and Frank or Gerri and Karolina or Frank and Karl talk about him. He never had to care before because they were his Dad’s people, just stuffed shirts who took care of his shit. But now they’re his people and he wants them to respect and value him. Maybe not in the way they did his Dad, certainly not like they do Kendall, but in some, good way. 

They finish their drinks and take a red-eye back to New York. It’s weird to come from staying in a hotel for 3 days and finding his apartment to be more isolating and sad. Grace took her things when she left, which apparently were all the things that made the apartment liveable. 

He hasn’t once had the urge to call her, but there is a gnawing loneliness in his house and life now that she’s gone. It fell apart quickly, there is only so much the girl could take, the last straw being uninviting her to the Scotland funeral. It was probably less about the actual request and more about the tone and words used to do it, but the end result was the same, Grace packed up and he’s left with bare walls and a playstation. 

Kendall bought a brownstone with Rava when they started talking about adopting. Roman and Shiv always preferred a penthouse existence, but likely their lack of children had some impact on that. There was something powerful about looking out from your bed and seeing nothing but stories and stories of lesser existences below. But the last three months, coming home to an empty, bare apartment, it all felt more pathetic than powerful. He thought about moving, the money was there, he could sell his place for a profit or give it to Cousin Greg. But the only person he ever asked for real estate advice was Logan and Logan is dead. 

The net morning, he arrives at Waystar at 8, because while he has been summoned to address a looming crisis, it is still a fucking Saturday morning. Opting for no jacket or tie and unstyled hair, he feels a little under-dressed and under-prepared when he joins the rest of the team in the main executive conference room. Kendall and Frank in their usual black suits, Karl in the saddest shade of grey with a hideous salmon shirt, Gerri and Karolina in neutral professional dresses. Everyone is seated, focused on either on their phone or laptop. He slips in the glass doors, heading straight for the coffee, pulling his phone from his pocket to fit in. 

It’s become second nature and if you told him a year ago it’s his preference he would have probably died, but he chooses the open seat next to Frank. Slides over and in a hushed tone he asks, “Did I already miss the show or this is just weird silent kinky foreplay where we all just sniff each other?” 

“Waiting on you and Bill, Kendall didn’t want to start until everyone’s in the room.” 

“In that case I have an idea,” he continues to describe the idea he had for the new regulation issues they’ve been struggling to meet with the California based.

Frank writes down and shows him how he’d shape the idea. Every time he looks up from Frank’s paper he seems to catch Gerri’s stare. Her eyes dart back to her phone when they make eye contact, which to him is more unnerving than if she were to just be staring. 

Bill comes in about 15 minutes later and once he’s settled at the table, Kendall stands up, claps his hands together. 

“So, some things have come to my attention. Which I believe are, you know, what’s done is done, and I realize past actions, nothing can be done about it now, but I think it should be addressed, certainly internally, and then possibly publicly, so we can move forward.” He’s staring at Bill, who is staring right back, which to Roman means something is fucked at Cruises, and fucked bad. 

Frank clears his throat, “The intention here appears to be transparency, and I can appreciate that, but there might be some rationale for that transparency to be more, opaque, for the larger group and then clearer for those who already have a good sense for the picture?” 

“I appreciate that Frank, but that’s not really how we are trying to handle things anymore, is it?” Kendall’s fur is up. 

Gerri clears her throat and tries to clarify Frank’s point, “I believe what Frank is trying to express is there is a certain amount of individual versus corporate liability that should likely be determined before addressing said problem in a larger internal setting.” 

The “individual liability” element and Kendall’s aggressive stance has Roman a little spooked. “I’m going to say, I’d like the lawyers in the room to solve the “how much would I take on personally from any fall out” question before anyone confesses anything, sorry if that is a fucking bummer to anyone’s conscience.” Roman adds. 

Kendall pulls a face at him. He suspects Gerri and Bill know what this is about, but Frank seems scared to be brought in on the record so he suspects that this is a party to just fuck over him, Frank and Karolina. 

“How about you take this one, Ken, I’ll get the next one. If you end up having to testify before congress or get any jail time, I’ll take the next two.” With that he stands up, pats Frank on the shoulder, saving him as well.

They don’t speak until they’re in his office. “What the fuck did we do?” 

“There is some very unspecified criminal-adjacent behavior that happened in the 90’s in Cruises, that based on that speech, Bill’s face and Gerri’s previous comments, I’m certain Kendall has become aware of. That new level of pale on Bill’s face means, he may be the bag man or at least he thinks he will be.” 

“Okay so shit-can Bill, burn down the Cruises shop, fresh start, boom, solved it. Why is Kendall all I-just-got-ass-fucked-by-a-robot sore about this?” 

“All of it depends how quietly Bill goes.” Frank sits on his couch, and sighs, “Gerri will handle it, Karolina will be able to get it a coherent message, but it’s not going to be a nice couple of weeks, and if he’s trying to take this public, who knows what they’ll do. Justice will be interested, Department of Labor possibly, if anyone foriegn was involved that could be a whole other mess.”

“They’ll come up with something,” Roman shrugs, the space he’s willing to give this in his mind is shrinking by the minute, “so about California...”

They work for another 3 hours on the plan for California parks, develop a strategy and plan that can be sent to Tom and Seamus at Parks and the California lobbyist shop they use. But it’s impossible to ignore the clouds looming, brewing up whatever was being decided in the room across the hall. 

They’re brainstorming efficiency areas for the news and local tv stations when Gerri pops her head in the office. “Roman, Kendall wanted a word in his office, there is a plan.” 

“Okay thanks,” he says and passes her out the door, as she joins Frank in his office. 

It’s not a fun walk to Kendall’s office, part dread, part guilt for having bailed so hard earlier, but he survives. Ken is pacing behind his desk when he steps in. 

“Hey,” he heads straight to the chairs in front of the desk. Kendall waited 2 months to re-decorate. It’s sleeker now, equally uncomfortable but more accessible for technology. “There is a plan?” 

“Hey, yeah, I think it’s good. Yeah, it’s good. We should be able to make it okay.” With each affirmation it seems less true. “So, we are going to run a three point plan of attack. Karolina will put out feelers to friendly sources, try and give the story as best we can, Gerri is developing a team to prepare everything we need from an internal review standpoint, we will get an outside investigator in. Bill will cooperate basically as a state’s witness.”

“Okay, you, me, Dad, we’re okay here or should we, is there any reason to prepare personal lawyers?” Roman asks. 

“You and me will be fine, we agreed to basically protect Bill and Gerri and whoever is still here, Bill will retire, but Dad is another story.”

“Well okay, so what is that story?” 

“Well Dad’s dead, so it stands to reason that makes him, to be indelicate, a good guy for this. Well him and Mo and someone named Patrick and Simon.” He’s rubbing his forehead like if he tries hard enough he should be able to get these things out of his mind. 

“Fuck.” 

“Ugh,” he stutters, “yeah, I think that’s where we are at. Karolina is working some stuff up and then once Gerri’s team is ready, we’ll announce the internal investigation and then Bill will step down having “brought this forward to the new executive team” and the rest will be whatever it is. So next week, probably, will be pretty tough. But it’s a good ship, we can weather the storm.” 

Roman feels sick, but relieved it’s not his mess to be cleaned up or his body in the line of fire. “Okay, I guess just keep me up to date.” 

Kendall is staring at the floor now, maybe playing the moves out in his mind or just trying to grasp the enormity of the stakes they are playing with. Roman leaves him there, staring at the floor. 

When he gets back, Frank and Gerri seem to be in an argument which surprises him. 

“...fucking self inflicted wound. One’s gonna cut us open and the other is…” but Gerri stops talking when Roman enters the room. 

Frank pulls on a smile to greet him, “Ken has a plan? Right as rain?”

“Kill Dad and the whole lot,” he looks briefly but his focus is on Gerri. “What’s your take Gerri?” 

“It’s a good plan, I think the investigation will be limited in scope and find what it needs to find for Kendall’s mind to be at ease.” She has the same fake smile as Frank. 

Roman never really thought his father surrounded himself with sycophants. Growing up he always imagined the executive floor to be the smartest people in the world, the best partners for his father in their tough business. Then he grew up, attended schools he had no business attending, got promotions based on no meritt and got into a million places with a drop of his name. It isn’t hard for him to believe these aren’t the world’s best executives. They lived like him, the Waystar executive floor were the best at avoiding Logan Roy’s ire, that was their skill and value. 

It will be true for the next generation too he figures. He’s watched them, Karl, Ava, Frank, Gerri, Karolina, these last 4 months, how much they do after Kendall leaves the room. How they take his ideas, tweak them, improve them, sell them. He figured they were just doing it with Ken, but the ease with which they just wrapped him in a blanket and set him in front of the TV, he’s starting to get a picture of who has always run the company. Roman just hates that no one will ever be honest about it. 

“Okay, well that’s bullshit but whatever.” Surprise flashes across Gerri’s face, but she covers it well. Roman doesn’t dwell on it, “Seems like we’re settled, so I’m gonna fuck off. It’s at least noon right? I think drinking sounds good about now.” 

He grabs his sunglasses and jacket from his desk and heads out the door. Fucking Gerri. He’s used to people not taking him seriously, and he knows his father never thought of him as anything special, but he’s worked fucking hard the last four months. He’s listened to Frank and followed through and he’s fucking tried. But there she is at every turn, just straight up lying to hs face, not trusting him with her opinion, making fucking jokes and compain to Frank like he’s a fucking idiot. Fuck her. 

Everyone was right, the office is crazy the next couple of days. He’s not a critical member of this newly formed crisis management team, so he’s allowed to keep doing his own thing, but Kendall has developed a new look of constant, violent nausea. Gerri has been nicer than normal, which to him now means deep down she’s really being more of a bitch. 

They make an announcement, discuss reforms, Kendall, Gerri, Bill all do interviews with various networks and papers. Logan comes out of it pretty bad. The Department of Justice has requested access to the report from their internal investigation, but hasn’t suggested they’d begin their own. Congress is out of session but Shiv said there isn’t much drive to get them before a committee. The stock drops a little, which raises plenty of discussion about making consumers interested and comfortable with cruises, but doens’t start a crisis in and of itself. He appoints Shiv’s fiancee to Cruises as part of the clean up and rebrand, which he honestly regrets instantly after having two meetings with the man in one day. He thinks of it as an early wedding present, that hopefully won't create more headaches for them down the road. 

All in all, by the end of the second week, he’s happy to sit in a club, get blitzed and not talk to another person. He wakes up the next morning, vomits, drinks 2 bottles of water and gets on with life. 

Kendall instituted Monday and Thursday morning “around the rooms” with the executive staff. It’s probably his least favorite part of his job. After the first month, he told Frank he didn’t have to attend, they mostly got dirty looks for talking only to each other and not participating. 

Karl is going on about some stock thing and shareholder preference models and Roman wonders how fast he’d have to run at the glass window to knock himself unconscious. 

“....do you think, Roman?” Gerri’s voice brings him back to reality. 

“Sorry what?”

“What do you think?” her face seems genuine, but there is an evil glee in her eyes, he’s sure of it. 

“I missed it, I’m sorry, you’ll have to start again from the beginning or we can take it offline.” He smiles back. 

Kendall clears his throat, unimpressed but also feeling the length of the meeting was getting unwieldy. “Why don’t you two catch up after, Cyd, anything worth noting from ATN this week? Saw there was a ratings spike in the demo last week, good work there.” 

He’s in and out of paying attention for the rest of the meeting, after what feels like an eternity, Kendall releases them. Roman lets the others stream out until it’s just Gerri and him at the door. She’s sporting her unimpressed face. 

He’s so close to asking if they are going to have some sort of problem, but knows she’ll just give him some naive bullshit back. “Have a good weekend?” He gets a very small glimpse of her surprise, but she recovers fast. 

“Perfectly adequate. Thanks,” she walks through the door he’s holding open for her, but the tone is a little too icy to be genuine. 

His office is across the hall and her’s down the other way, so he knows he has the advantage here, “How splendid. Well, my office door is always open if you’d like another shot at chopping off my balls, but I understand if you prefer to go after them more publicly, everybodies got their kinks, no judgement, just wanted to put it out there.” He gives her his best, biggest smile, “Have a wonderful day,” tying it up with a bow, he gives her a wink. 

Two weeks later, they’re in his office, Frank, Roman, his assistant, Charlie, and Gerri, running through the California lobbying efforts he has pulled together. They’ve been at it for 2 hours and made no progress. 

“I’m not saying it’s perfect, it’s fucking not, but I’m saying given the political capital we have out there right now, this is the a pretty fucking good shot of working.” 

“And we pay people, good people, good money, to tell us if that is true. And here is Gage Whitney Pace saying that is not the case.” She holds up a report from their LA lobbyist telling them to stay the course and pursue litigation. 

“Which is fine and fucking dandy, but our lobbyists out there are across the hall from our outsourced California litigation team. So color me not shocked when they want us to do 4 years of legal battles instead of juicing up three dumb fuck state senators to roll up our proposed changes with their public safety bullshit. Boom goes the dynamite, we get this shit cleaned up by Christmas and I don’t have to hear about fucking carbon offsets and god damn parking lot effects anymore.”

“There is some concern that we will come off as buying our way out of “important reforms” for the industry.” Frank suggests, which he doesn't fully understand because they’ve talked this through 100 times and he knows he’s on board. 

“People may have been throwing hookers over the sides of our boats for a decade, we paid out less than 10 mil and painted a boat for pride, now everyone’s cool about cruises again so don’t tell me people have a fucking issue with buying out way out of problems. I’m not trying to cover up murder here, I want to not pay fucking fines for having a place for people to park their cars.” His candor on the dark topic might have been too much because suddenly no one has anything to say. 

“Fuck it,” Roman takes a deep breath and then exhales, “we’re going to do that thing you always had to do with Dad, I’m sure you’re well practiced at, I’m going to tell you this is what I want done and so you make it better and get it fucking taken care of.” His voice goes up at the end like he isn’t truly confident they will get on board. 

“Okay, we’ll proceed with a change to the lobbying strategy, I’ll brief Daniel. Thank you Frank, Charlie,” her attention turns to him, her stare hardens, “Roman.” All control and dignity, she sweeps out of the room, shortly followed by Frank. 

“If you thought she hated you before, Jesus.” Charlie says under his breath. It makes Roman laugh. 

“Too much?” Roman asks, genuinely worried he might have gone too far. There is a line he thinks somewhere between being aggressive but good and becoming his father. It’s clear when he thinks about it in abstract, but in the moment he has no good measure for it.

“I’ll check with Nora and Jess later, but Nora said,” he pauses like he’s uncertain he should betray her confidence, “I don’t think you’re her favorite person on this floor.” 

“I’ll send Frank over later, see if there is a white flag I can wave, calm the waters.” 

“Chocolate covered macadamia nuts.” 

“What?” 

“She likes them, that and champagne, Veuve if you’re not that sorry, Krug if you are. But there is also whiskey and obviously pearls, but yeah, chocolate.” 

“I’m not giving Gerri Kellman chocolate and champagne, come on, that is some be my valentine bullshit.” 

Charlie shrugs, “That’s all I got, I’ll talk to Nora.” 

It does make Roman think, “What is my list? If someone wants to give me a make up gift, what do you suggest?” 

“Depends how bad it is, usually Nets tickets, El Tesoro Extra Añejo, for a little while I used to tell people you collected snow globes, but no one was courageous enough to follow through on that one.” 

Roman laughs, “Fucking brilliant.” 

“You’ve got a conference call at 5 with Brian about the upcoming launches, should be an agenda attached to the meeting invite, and your trainer confirmed for 730, a car should be downstairs at 710. Let me know if you need anything else.” 

“Thanks, let me know what Nora says.” 

He never used to feel this exhausted at the end of the day. Every night when he comes home to his dumb apartment, he tell himself he’s gonna talk to Charlie about getting a designer to fix the place up, but he can never remember by the time he gets to the office. It’s been over 5 months since Grace moved out, he thinks it’s been a record for the longest time he’s gone without a girlfriend. For how shitty he is at relationships, he’s slightly worse at being alone. Work has been a good distraction, given him purpose, made him feel useful and normal in a way that he never had before. 

He pours himself a glass of red wine, noticing the label, it’s from a French vineyard he visited with his mom on a very terrible trip across the French countryside when he was 17. The trip was miserable, but he did find a single vineyard he still buys a case from each spring. He grabs a Cabernet and leaves it on the counter, it’s not a Krug Grande but it’s good wine, if Gerri is unimpressed, fuck her, he made an effort. 

He never gives her the bottle, it’s still sitting in his office. There was a particularly shitty email in his inbox the next morning which makes him regret thinking he’s the one who needs to provide a peace offering. 

“She’s so fucking condescending.” He says under his breath. 

“She’s not so bad,” Frank tries to counter. “I don’t really see what you’re seeing here, she’s supporting your suggestion.”

“But does she have to be so, you know,” he shakes his hand in lieu of finishing the description.

“Smart?” Frank offers. 

“Fuck off, no one asked you.” 

“I haven’t asked but it does seem like you two have been rather,” he pauses looking for the right word, “terse, as of late.” 

“What?” 

“I’m just trying to help you here, because it’s not a great look, you being so pointedly aggressive or I guess competitive with a female executive.” Frank is using his kid glove voice he hasn’t had to use in quite some time. 

“Fuck that, you think I have a problem with her being a woman? Bullshit, I’m fine with Karolina, I’m fine with Cyd, I love Cyd. I don’t have a problem with Gerri, Gerri has a problem with me.” 

“Roman, we all want you to succeed,” there is a softness there that he could actually believe. “I don’t think you have a problem with women, but it does seem for one reason or another you two seem to rub each other the wrong way, and thats fine when it’s us in your office, it’s another thing out there.”

“Yeah, okay, how about I step back from legal shit, you take it, pull me in when necessary? I can focus on the efficiency and recapitalization stuff.” 

“I’m not saying you have to step back, I’m just saying, there are optics you have to be concerned about now, and feuding only works when people understand the source of it.” 

“She started it.” 

“It’s Gerri, no one will believe that, people love Gerri. Gerri plays the game.” All Roman can respond with is a huff and an eye roll. 

In Kendall’s Thursday morning circle jerk, he’s on his best behavior. He reports in about the recapitalization efforts, and the impending re-organizations within HR he has been leading. He actively listens to everyone else's reports, even asks a few follow up questions. He’s feeling good about his showing when Gerri starts, describing the traction they’ve had getting legislation passed in California to reduce their outstanding regulation deviations. Kendall congratulates her and she actually points out that it was Roman’s idea and strategy. He smiles and nods, but when they make eye contact he can tell she’s seething at having to give him credit. So maybe she does play the game, she plays better than he could ever dream. 

Considering she’s their only living parent he’s not surprised Caroline was able to get Shiv to have the wedding in England, but it’s not convenient. Tom asks him if he’d like to organize his bachelor party, as part of being Shiv’s best man, but he’s double booked with the Parks annual managers meeting and negotiations in Shanghai with toy manufacturers. He’s pretty sure if he didn’t already have something, he could get Charlie to find something to put on the calendar to avoid it. 

He flies from Orlando to England arriving later than the rest of the party. He hasn’t seen most of these people since the funeral. It’s the first occasion they’ve all gotten together for since, and it’s an uneasy dynamic, being together again without their gravitational center. 

Caroline is her usual cutting self, floating around the party asking guests, “How long do you think they’ll last?” He told her 2 years, and she countered with 18 months, so the festivities are well and cheer-y. 

He’s busy watching Willa and Connor argue, when Frank joins him. “Connor has suggested he’s interested in running for President.” 

“Fucking hell, we can’t give him a charity to run or something?” 

“Shiv tried that, he turned it into a Tort reform organization, Gerri ended up having too many concerns about the sketchy funding and legal stuff, she shut it down.” 

“I’ll talk to him, but there’s never been any reasoning with Connor.” 

“Worth a shot. You know I think it was 20 years since I’ve been here, and now twice in the last 10 months. Amazing how it felt so gloomy last time and now so bright.” 

Roman just hums his acknowledgment, he honestly doesn’t remember much of anything from the week or so after Logan died. He remembers visiting the hospital, and going home, fighting with Grace, crying into his Dad’s sweater. But most of that time is pretty foggy, it’s hard to even differentiate the events in New York versus Scotland.

As the night continues, and people keep mentioning how tragic it is that his father isn’t around for such a wonderful day, he looks for a place to escape. Remembering Caroline put a pool table in Dad’s old study after the divorce as if to say, business is no longer welcome in her home, he slips inside only to find it occupied. 

He walks in on what appears to be Shiv taunting Gerri, and to his surprise, Gerri is having none of it. He stands back and watches. 

“As a wedding present, and because I hold ⅓ of the family’s Waystar stock, and because well, we both know if I go to Kendall he’ll just do whatever I say and ask you to do it anyway, cut out the attacks on Gil, a cease fire for the general.” 

“Poor liddle, fwagile, pwesidential candidate, can’t handle a little criticism, healthy democratic debate?.” 

“I can either ask you this here and now and it can be just a nice thing you handle for me, or I can make it a mess that Kendall has to respond too. I’m quite good at fake tears.” 

“You used to be such a nice girl.” 

“I’m sure the same could be said for you.” 

It should feel good, Shiv hitting her back, but it chills him to his bones. He feels compelled to make it stop. 

He clears his throat and steps farther into the room, “Shiv, it’s news, they’re journalists, we do not control what they say.” 

They’re both shocked by his sudden addition to the discussion. “Oh sure, but the right word in the right ear, that’s how these things work, isn’t it bro?”

He looks at Gerri, “Would you excuse us, I haven’t been able to offer my congratulations to my sister on her wedding.” Gerri seems more than eager to escape whatever the hell this is. 

When the door closes, “Don’t bother her with this bullshit, if you’ve got something for Kendall go to Kendall. Fuck, we’re getting fucked from every direction, it’s better when it’s not also family.” 

“You’ll talk to someone.” 

“I’ll do whatever the fuck we usually do, I don’t know.” He sits down in the chair next to her, “Congratulations by the way, Tom looks like such a blushing groom, he’ll make you a very happy pet.” 

“I don’t know about all of that, but here we are.” 

“Connor is going to run for president. So sounds like you’ve got some competition,” he pokes. 

“On what platform, legalizing prostitution and tax abolition?” 

“Exactly that.” 

“Jesus.” 

“If only Dad could see us now, blackmailing company lawyers, paying off Connor to shut the fuck up, ignoring whatever sad thing Kendall is up too. He’d be so proud.” 

“We’re all going to turn out just like him aren’t we. We’re doomed.” 

“I yell at people now, it’s amazing I don’t put on a fake accent to do it, like I’m cosplaying the bastard in his own office.” 

There is a louder than typical cheer from beyond the door that summons Shiv’s attention back to the party, “I should get back.” 

“I plan on staying in here.” He watches her leave and sits back in the chair, resting his head, closing his eyes. 

“I had that under control.” The sharpness in her voice brings him out of his peace. 

“No doubt, but she is my sister and if she’s going to give anyone shit, it shouldn’t be you.” 

“You agreed to do it then?” 

“I agreed to do whatever we usually do, will I, Roman Roy, do anything about it no, will I say to Cyd, “Shiv is being a bitch make whatever you want of that,” sure.” 

“That’s not what she was asking for.” Gerri says it like he is some sort of idiot. 

He closes his eyes again, “Can we play this game where you think I’m a fucking moron some other time please, it’s fine, it’s under control.” 

“So she’s just going to go to Kendall?” 

“And Kendall can come talk to me or handle it like a big boy, and if he goes to you, tell him to fuck off,” he lifts his head to look at her, “This doesn’t have to be your problem.” 

“Everything is my problem,” she says under her breath, but still loud enough so he can hear it. 

“For fuck sake, I’m sorry Kendall and I aren’t fucking high energy tyrants who have 60 years of experience and terrible taste in culture and politics. If you’re so unhappy, we’ll gladly give you the largest golden parachute known to man and you can watch us fail from your pool full of gold, but give me a fucking break. We’re not trying to destroy anything here, we're doing our best to survive and fix some shit along the way. He was your boss and friend, it sucks but he was my Dad, and he fucking thought I was useless, we’re all working through shit right now Gerri. Pointing out that it’s all a couple seconds from falling apart doesn’t really help the team.” 

He wants to storm out but he’s too tired to put in that much energy. She doesn’t seem to want to argue the point further which is a relief. He slowly gets up, gets to the door and offers, “Good night,” before slipping out. 

They get through the wedding and make it back to New York just in time for their satellite launch to turn into a fireworks show. Early reports are no fatalities but some number of employees and support staff were hospitalized. 

When the news breaks, Kendall is in his office within 10 minutes, “During the cruise thing, you said you’d get the next one. You're up.” 

He doesn’t realize he’s not the only one being sent until he boards the corporate jet and Gerri’s there. They hadn’t talked since he blew up at her the night before Shiv’s wedding. She looks up when he gets on, but quickly returns her focus to her computer. It’s a very long, silent 14 hours. After hour 6, he gets pissed that she’s being so immature, recognizing he also is acting immature, but blames her all the same. At hour 10, he decides there is no way he will be the first one to talk. 

They land, take a car to the hotel, and check in, all without an exchange of words. Room keys in hand, they just stare straight ahead as they wait for the elevator. It feels powerful, the silence, like every minute they hold out, the more the other one will have over them. He knows she will get out first, she’s on the 15th floor to his 22nd. The idea passes through his mind of a quick, “Good night” as the doors close, just to really fuck with her, but he doesn’t trust himself to get the tone right, it will probably just sound bitter and then he’s basically lost. So silent they remain. 

He gets settled in, unpacks, gets an update from Charlie about the office and the plans for tomorrow. He checks his email and is surprised to see Gerri has sent him something via email. It’s talking points for tomorrow’s press conference, all very thorough and useful. It makes him a little more mad, that she’s so fucking good at her job even when she’s being a complete bitch. 

He feels stiff from the plane and a little gross from the plane food, so he decides it’s best for him to move around a little bit. There is an elliptical overlooking the pool that he finds unappealing but the idea of lifting weights makes him nauseous and he hates the way his feet make heavy clomping noises on treadmills, so he climbs on. About 15 minute in, he’s worked up a sweat but his attention is drifting. He’s always found exercise difficult because it’s so endlessly boring. Having a trainer has helped, it’s someone to push him, someone to impress. But running on a machine with nothing to do or think about except every mistake he’s ever made isn’t a great place for him mentally. 

He’s flickering through his mundanely painful memories, like the time Frank had to save him from assuming an older investor’s date was his daughter when something flashes in his eyeline, or the time he accidentally touched his Dad’s “friend” Sally Anne breast when he was 22 and she just smiled at him. 

There’s a muffled sound and movement in his peripheral which pulls him out of the deep shame hole he’s digging himself. Blinking he tries to focus on the figure as they approach, the blond hair is unmistakable, pulled up, highlighting her pearl-less, elegant neck. Fucking Gerri. Can’t even get a moment of peace from her. His eyes follow her across the room as she sets down her towel and returns poolside. He hasn’t had quite enough time to study her, before she slips into the water and begins freestyle laps. 

It’s on her 6th turn he realized the machine he’s on has turned off from inactivity. HIs breath is unsteady, even though he’s been near resting since she walked in, he finds himself trying to catch his breath. There is a certain anatomical reaction that has taken root as he continues to watch her. He isn’t prepared to address it mentally, so he drags himself from the window. It’s not quite rushed, but he’s back in his room without realizing what he was doing. His subconscious deciding he should come to terms with whatever is happening in private. 

His skin is sticky and his face feels hot, so he hops into the shower, turning the water to cold, but after a few minutes, his passions have sustained. Giving in, he attempts his typical routine, but with every breath and he’s back to thinking of her slipping through the water, her face when she’s unimpressed with him and the way her eyes darkened when she had to complement his work. All of it, plus the way she tightens her lips when she's frustrated and her perked brow when she’s surprised and how he imagines she would just push him backwards onto a bed, take control, take what she needs, makes him orgasm stronger than he has in years. There is a wave of shame that follows is something he’s accustomed to but it sits deeper in his brain, knowing every time he sees her now, he’ll have this somewhere in his memories.. 

He fucking kills it at the press conference, landed the necessary sincerity for the victim statements and then a charming mix of humor and self-deprecation for the technical and managerial questions. Gerri’s prep material made him comfortable talking about their vision for future practices and investments in launch technologies, which helps considerably. 

When he regroups with her and their local management team she gives him a very quiet and soft, “Good job.” 

It stuns him. Recovering quickly, they discuss the next steps for the crisis team and getting the information on the investigation, but their work is pretty much wrapped up. They are alone again. “The talking points you sent over were really helpful.” He says cautiously. 

“I’m glad.” 

They just stand there silent again, waiting for their hosts to return with information so they can head to the airport. It feels like an eternity but they get what they need and are ushered to a car. On the plane they maintain mostly silence, Roman opts to sleep for a couple hours and then checks email when he wakes up. There are a few important things to respond to but his attention is pulled to a chain sent to him from Gerri between her and Frank in response to something Kendall sent out. 

He reads through it and decides while he understands most of Franks points, he’s in agreement with Gerri. He sends a response highlighting this and points out a couple more things he thinks are pertinent to the discussion. 

5 minutes later Gerri responds, she’s pulled Frank off the CC. She thanks him for his agreement but counters some of his supporting evidence and questions, highlighting a couple more relevant arguments. It unsteadys him, the sharpness with which she can cut him down intellectually, alongside her praises. 

His reply is a little saltier, again arguing in a total agreement with her but stressing the importance of specific minutiae no one else would care about. He spares a glance over to her once he’s sent it, pinpoints when opening and reading it. A little smile grows as she gets through it. Her fingers start to move and clearly she’s crafting her response. When she stops typing he snaps his attention back to his computer, waiting for the response to roll in. 

It’s a withering assessment of his intellect, and maybe the hottest thing he’s ever read. She calls him “lazy” and “desperate for relevant precedent.” He wishes he had her number so he could just text her “fuck you”, probably not a great move for the COO to be emailing employee’s that.  
He settles on the harshest thing he can think of that is still suitable for work. He just replies back, “k, sounds good, thx”. When he sends it, he can actually hear her laugh. 

It’s easy to return to his work, snacking on pretzels, drinking terrible chilled white wine. Some mental math tells him they are a couple hours to wheels down. He rolls his neck on his shoulders, the soreness setting in, indicating he had to start moving around if he wanted to be able to move tomorrow. 

On his third trip up and down the full length of the cabinet, he gets hit in the face with a deck of post it notes. “The fuck?” 

“You’re giving me motion sickness, sit the fuck down.” 

He’d never admit that he’d done it to get her attention, but he’s not upset about it. Plus it gives him the opportunity to poke her a little more. He sits down next to her, pulling his legs up to pretzel into the seat. Pulling over his laptop, he queues up Skyfall and leans back. She’s focused on his computer but he can tell she’s distracted by him. Her eyes darting to his phone anytime he laughs quietly to himself. It takes 20 minutes before her typing has stopped all together, clearly Daniel Craig has more pull than Waystar contracts. He shifts a little closer, moves the screen so she doesn’t have to strain her neck. 

They’re at Skyfall’s last stand when the pilot announces their arrival to New York. Reality collapses around him, he gently closes his laptop, awkwardly untangles himself and heads back to his seat. 

They don’t exchange another word, independently de-planing and getting into awaiting cars. 

He’s in the office the next day, bright and early for their Monday meeting. It’s starting to wear on him, that he always has to start at these things. Gerri comes after him less than 3 minutes into his report. It’s breath taking and unbearable the skill she has at it. The way she makes it seem like she’s just vaguely curious about something but really is leading everyone else in the room to her point while making them think they got their first. 

He glares at her, open contempt in his eyes, and all he gets back is a smirk. Her smirk that says, he can’t keep up, oh well, pity. 

He’s not as good at this game as her. Frank has reprimanded him twice after his attempts at retaliation, calling him a sore loser. So he tries to do what he knows works. Tom sets him up, suggesting something particularly stupid. Gerri follows his comments with a more finessed, plausible version of Tom’s idea. 

It’s an opportunity Roman rarely sees, a chance to get her at her own game. Building on generations of the hard work of mediocre men, he takes a classic strategy of repeating exactly her strategy as if it’s his own idea. And to his surprise people don’t notice, taking in the idea better than they did when she said it, suggesting he set up a follow on meeting with Tom to better flesh out this great new direction. 

He can feel it before he even looks over, her murder stare. He’s clearly crossed a line, because the next time he adds something, she snips at him a little harder than necessary, and the room cools to her. He can’t help himself, he loves to win, gives her a wink when they wrap up the meeting. 

He’s in his office less than 10 minutes before Charlie comes in. 

“Nora says she’s fuming. What did you do?” 

“What did Nora say?” 

“Something about there was a “fucking little dweeb” and then a lot of muttering, but context implies that’s probably you.” 

“She started it,” he shrugs. Because she did, for no reason, after he was pretty sure they had a truce from Japan. A little weird bug in his brain made him think about his time with her, his mind her, in his shower, like there is a chance she found out about that and is mad. But that’s impossible. She’s just being a btich to be a bitch, and he can play that game too. 

Charlie goes through his call list, tag who he owes what to and he’s feeling pretty good about the day. 

“Your schedule is clear until lunch with Kendall and an executive from GE.” 

“I’m going to go down to Cyd’s office.” He grabs his suit coat, but has an idea and grabs the bottle of wine. 

He stops at Nora’s desk outside of Gerri’s office. 

“She’s in with Kendall right now, I can tell her you stopped by,” her smile totally fake, less years of experience then the rest of them to really sell it. 

“Oh, no need to bother with that, just wanted to drop this off for you, I know we make your work difficult, more than it should be, take it as a small gesture of appreciation for putting up with us.” He offers her the bottle. “If you prefer pinot, we can’t be friends.” 

Nora looks surprised by the gesture, but genuinely thankful. “That’s very nice, no, this looks great. Thank you.” 

“Have a good one.” He smiles and heads to the elevators. 

She’s waiting for him when he gets back in the office from lunch. He had a sense something was up when the blinds were drawn, but there she is just sitting on his couch, reading from her phone. 

“Gerri.” He says with a curt nod, choosing to stand behind his desk chair, removing his jacket and rolling up his sleeves, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“Don’t fuck with my assistant.” She looks up at him and if he were a weaker man he might have wet himself. 

“I have no intention of fucking with your assistant, but again, your advice and guidance, is always welcome.” 

“Roman, I’m serious, she’s good, I like her, she’s competent. I don’t want you getting whatever notion it is you have and ruining any of that.” 

“And I’m also serious in saying, I have absolutely no interest in your assistant aside from the fact that she regularly complains to my assistant that I am a bother to peace in the office. A peace offering to an innocent bystander, that’s all it was.”

“I’m sure.” 

He sits down at his desk, “You know, if you think about you know nature vs nurture and all that, I was fucked right out the gate so, all things considered, there wasn’t much of a chance with me. But I’m not trying to seduce or whatever your assistant, I’m pathetic but in grosser, weirder ways than a 24 year old who can’t match shades of grey.” 

She seems to soften at that, “I didn’t mean to imply any moralism, I’m just partial to this one is all.” 

“Okay so no more gifts. That enough or do you want me to swear on the Bible I won't sniff around?”

She just gives him a shrug, and silently leaves his office. 

An email pops up, from Karolina, plans for the upcoming corporate retreat. Kendall is hosting it at the Summer Palace, which he now splits half with Shiv. He’s pretty sure the last corporate retreat was in Iceland. Kendall has been pushing the “everyday-guy-as-CEO” thing as of late, so opulent corporate retreats are probably off the tables for some time, which is okay but also kind of a bummer. He feels a little bad for Charlie, the only trip he’s been invited along for so far and it’s to the Hamptons. 

His schedule has him in LA the week before the trip. The park's stuff is all going well, their regulation changes are on the docket and he’s meeting two of the sponsoring senators while he’s out there. He’s flying out tomorrow morning to meet the rest of the team in the Hamptons, but he’d rather just go home and sleep for a year. He’s tired, his brain fried from all the hand holding and dancing he’s done on this trip. He flops down on the bed, fumbles with his phone to call Frank, see what he’s missed in the office. 

“Hello?” 

He definitely didn’t call Frank. That is definitely a confused Gerri on the other line. 

“Sorry, I was trying to call Frank, must have fat fingered the buttons.” 

“Okay.” 

“There was one thing though, if I have you on the line, it seems like the legislation is going well, should be wrapped up shortly.” 

“Congratulations, do you want an award for doing your job, or maybe a gold star? A badge for your biggest baddest boss sash?” 

“A simple, “Roman, you were right, I was wrong” would suffice.” 

“Never going to happen.” 

“How about, “Roman you’re a fountain for good ideas, I trust your professional judgement entirely.” How about that?” 

“I’ll tell you what you can do with all your good ideas.” She trails off. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Go fuck yourself.” The sharpness he would expect with those words isn’t there, it actually sounded like she was playing along, maybe even smiling when she says it.

“Maybe I will. Maybe I’ll leave you on the line, let you hear my brillance.” 

“Fine, I’ve heard plenty worse than a spoiled brat ejaculating on himself.” He’s actually turned on at this point. He takes it as a good sign she hasn’t hung up. He turns over, holding the phone against his shoulder and unbuckling his pants. He tries to make it noisy enough that she will hear it and stop him or hang up. 

“Oh yeah? You sure about that? I could be doing it now for all you know.” He slides his hand into his pants and can’t help the sigh that escapes him. 

“I’m waiting,” her tone was totally unimpressed. He basically groans fully into his phone, putting it all out there.

After a sharp intake of breath, in surprise or excitement he’s not sure, she pushes him farther. “You disgusting little pig.” It’s a hit but it feels good, like she is pushing him into the bed and pushing all the bad stuff from his brain. 

“You’re pathetic. You are a revolting little worm aren’t you?” 

It’s everything he wants, his hips moving with his hand now, faster. He closes his eyes, just listens to her voice. He can’t remember ever being this turned on. “Yeah, yeah, yeah I am,” he moans. 

“Yeah what else am I?” 

“You’re revolting Roman.” 

“Yeah,” he sighs, he speeds up. It’s too good. He’s so close.

“You little slime puppy. You are vile. A nothing, just a speck of useless dust.” 

He comes with a grunt and whine. He was very close to calling out her name. He’s breathing begins to even out, but he doesn’t know what to say. 

“Good night Roman.” she says softly before hanging up. 

Everything has been a string of firsts over the last months. First day without Logan, first day in the office without Logan, first crisis, first acquisition, first board meeting, first trip to the Hamptons, they all stung a little. The Hamptons house is exactly how he remembers it. He arrives after the corporate caravan, walking in to find Greg just wandering aimlessly.

“Cousin Greg,” he nods. 

“Roman! You’re here! Welcome.” 

“Yes, I’m here, so are you. We are both fucking here.” 

“How was your trip, you just got in right? You weren’t in the office.” 

Frank is coming down the stairs and Roman thinks there may be a god. “Bye Cousin Greg,” he waves, turning to meet Frank. 

“How much corporate feel-good bullshit are we going to have to swallow here?” he asks him. 

“I’ve been told there will be a scavenger hunt.” 

“No fucking way.”

“There is a “team-building coordinator” and from our introductions this morning, I don’t know if all of us are going to survive the weekend.” 

He follows Frank into the dining room, where most of the rest of the team is milling about. Charlie, Nora, and Jess are all in the corner on laptops, allowed to avoid the cluster fuck he’s surely about to enter. He gives Charlie a nod of greeting, before taking a seat between Frank and Karl. 

It’s about 15 minutes before Kendall and the coordinator come in. At which point, she introduces herself to Roman as Kelly, she has a brilliant smile and an enthusiasm that makes his teeth ache. Kendall asks Nora to let Gerri and Karolina they are ready. 

He wasn’t fully prepared to see her. When he woke up this morning he was surprised the call wasn’t just a wild dream. He checked his phone just to be sure, and there was a 15 minute call to Gerri. 

She’s more casual than he’s used to seeing her, they all have dressed down for this, but she’s in a cashmere sweater and long skirt. He averts his eyes when she walks in, scared he’s going to give too much away. Kelly begins to describe the purpose of the activity she is leading, and with everyone’s focus on her, he gets enough energy to peak at Gerri. 

She’s not frowning, that’s just how she holds her face. But her brow is a little furrowed and her squint seems to be less about improving vision and more about managing disappointment with how the day is going to progress. 

Kelly has them individually identify four key performance metrics and create a picture of what success in that area would look. After 10 minutes, she has everyone pair up and sit across from their partner. He picks Frank because why wouldn’t he. When they are all settled, she fucking re-pairs them with the person sitting next to them, and suddenly he’s stuck with Tom. 

90 minutes later he’s close to making Shiv a widow. He’s never found someone who is so innocuous so debilitatingly frustrating before. He has to step outside for fear he may lose his mind, Charlie follows him out. They’re is a 30 minute break, and his mind needs a rest. 

“What plausible excuses can we give to get me out of this?” he practically begs. 

Charlie laughs, “Well you don’t have any children or pets, and I don’t think if your building was on fire that would even matter to you. So I’m fresh out of ideas.” 

“What do you think, and I’m saying this hypothetically, would be the minimum injury I could endure to get out of this?” 

Charlie laughs again, “Broken foot? But even then, they might just stick you in a chair and give you an ice pack.”

“I was thinking, light head injury, maybe okay I don’t know how it would happen, but I’ve always thought I could handle losing a finger at the knuckle.” 

“Which finger?”

“Ring finger, obviously.” 

“That’s not obvious, why not the middle?” 

Nora peaks out from the house, spotting them, and slowly approaches.  
“Hey, Nor, which finger would you choose to lose above the top knuckle.” Charlies asks.

She looks a little embarrassed and surprised, “Why would I have to choose that?” 

“It’s the only way to save the world? Does it matter the reason, come on.” Roman laughs, he sees how her and Gerri get along. 

“Right pinky.”

Roman cringes, “Eww why?”

“I use it the least when I type.” The response makes both Charlie and Roman laugh. 

“That’s so fucking perfect.” Roman says, making even Nora laugh. 

“Nora!” 

They look up, Gerri’s at the door calling for Nora’s attention. She immediately stops laughing, eyes wide in an unspoken communication to Charlie, who just offers her a sweet smile, before she jogs back to the house. Charlie keeps the smile on his face even after she’s gone and it dawns on him. His assistant may be fucking Gerri’s assistant. 

They head back in and sit through another 2 hours of bullshit. They switch up partners, he ends up with Karolina for the afternoon and he makes the most of it, trying to get her to laugh. He succeeds three times, he’s basking in the triumph when they break for an hour before dinner. 

When they all head out, he catches Gerri’s eye. They’ve been able to avoid each other most of the day, between the activities and breaks, they’ve remained in separate realms. He’s been fairly vigilant about not starting, not thinking about her voice and her tone and “You’re revolting”, how it made him feel. The look she gives is confusing, she may be mad at him, or possibly disappointed, he doesn’t think it’s supposed to be sexy, but it also turns him on. He’s an idiot, but all he can do is just nod in return.

He showers and changes into a crew neck sweater for dinner. They haven’t had a dinner like this since Logan died. He feels entitled to dress more comfortably. He grabs a glass of red and lingers around Kendall and Karls discussion as they mingle outside of the dining room. He wonders where the assistants are and it makes him smile. He hopes they get to sneak out and have fun. They had some great and terrible times in this house over the years.

As they shuffle in, and the only chair left on his side of the table is at the end next to Karolina. He doesn’t think it’s too bad until he pulls in his chair and looks up, directly into Gerri’s eyes. There is probably a record for how many times someone can blink in a minute and Gerri could be well on her way to breaking that record. 

There is a stiff awkwardness to the meal. Conversation is stilted. Logan, for all his faults, was pure showman, the man never left a room without providing some entertainment, be it comedy or tragedy. 

Logan always framed their existence in opposition, that Kendall’s or Shiv’s success was a failure of his. He never really had the hero worship little brothers get. And after a while there wasn’t much to worship with how bad the drugs got out of college. Kendall was always uneasy with people, desperate, intellectually insecure. His own reputation, being The Dauphin, wasn’t great, but it gave people such low expectations he didn’t really have to try and impress. It was just so hard for Kendall to seem like a human sometimes.

Typically, in these situations, he would be Kendall’s pitch hitter. Swooping in and making the unspoken awkwardness spoken and then have everyone laugh at him. But he’s spinning a little off his center, coming to terms with having had phone sex with Gerri last night, how she’s staring at him like it definitely didn’t happen. 

“How was California, Roman?” Kendall asks.

“Sunny,” he smiles, “good, everything should be wrapped up pretty quickly.”

“Great, again, great work on that, Gerri too.” 

Roman smiles, “Yeah Gerri, sincerely, you went above and beyond with this one.” 

She grimaces at him. “Here to help, matters big and exceedingly small.” 

He hides a laugh behind his napkin. Well it’s some kind of acknowledgement if he was looking for one. 

The rest of dinner is fairly uneventful, banal even. He wonders if he can be pushy enough tomorrow to get this trip cut short so they don’t have to do this again. They break after dinner, drinks in the study. He’s pouring Scotch for Frank when he gets a text and then another and then another in rapid succession. 

He checks it, and it’s from Charlie. 

**Huge favor, so sorry for this, I’ll owe you one forever, I really really hate to ask.  
I’m out with Nora, Gerri’s texting like she’s going to ask her to come back in  
Anyway you can distract her? I’ll owe you a million. Please? **

It makes him laugh. This poor guy is so out of his league, but he can’t knock him for trying. 

He replies back:  
**I got you.**

He sees Gerri across the room, she’s on her phone, probably messaging Nora. He gets Frank’s attention and nods towards Gerri’s direction. 

“So?” 

“Go bother Gerri.” 

“Why?” 

“Because I can’t do it.” 

“What?” 

“If I come with you will you go bother Gerri?”

“Why are we bothering her?” 

“Jesus Christ, you are no help ever you know that.” Roman starts walking, after a few steps he turns back to check if Frank is following, which he is, reluctantly. 

“Gerri,” he says too loud and she looks up at him with a frown. “How’s it going?” He looks at her but then stares at Frank to contribute or step in. 

“Fine. Can I help you two with something?” She’s still frowning, but she’s not on her phone which is a good first step. 

“If you had to lose above the knuckle on any finger which would it be?” He says when Frank refuses to step up. 

“What?” She sort of laughs at it, which makes his ears feel hot.

“Hostage situation, they’re going to cut off the top of one of your fingers, but they let you choose which, what’s your choice?”

“I understood the question,” she’s just blinking at him like he’s a fucking idiot. Suddenly every memory of hating her is back in his mind. 

“What did you think of today’s activities?” Frank asks, trying to re-frame the conversation. 

She studies him and then looks to Roman and then over his shoulder to where he assumes Kendall is standing. “Interesting, it’s so valuable to get different perspectives.” 

“Is it though?” Roman says flippantly, which makes her smile, despite herself. 

“You didn’t get much value out of today?” She asks, her voice lower. 

“Just a giant reminder of how dead my father is, other than that, I’m sure I’m no better for having had to listen to Tom’s extensive thoughts on D/E ratios.”

Karl calls Frank over from across the room, and he ducks out, leaving just Gerri and Roman staring at the floor. 

After a second or two, Gerri holds up her phone, “I'm going to go take care of some things I left outstanding from this week, if you’ll excuse me.” 

That’s the exact opposite of what he’s been asked to do. He looks around to make sure no one is watching and then follows her out. It’s not a great look, sneaking up the stairs, following a woman to her room. When Gerri opens the door he slides in before it closes, announcing “Hey so,” trying not to startle her. He is unsuccessful at that, but it works to his advantage as she has dropped her phone. 

He lunges for it and pops back up, holding her phone in his hand. 

“Roman, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Hey.” 

She reaches out her hand, “Roman give me my phone.” She’s a little more stern now. 

“About that,” he pivots away when she tries to grab it from him, moving it behind his back and taking a step away. 

“Quit fucking around. Give me my phone and get out of my room.” She sounds totally serious now. 

He holds his hands up in surrender, phone in hand, still out of her reach. “Don’t bother Nora tonight.” 

“What?” She was not expecting that.

“Just let them have the night off.” He says softly. 

“Why? Why do you care? Why are you in my room?” It’s clear they’ve shifted from annoyance and frustration to outright anger. She’s stepping towards him, and he steps back. 

“I don’t want to say.” 

“What have you done?” She’s basically in his face now.

“Nothing, I promise, nothing, you don’t see that, because I’ve stolen your property, but it’s in the pursuit of goodness, I promise.”

“Roman.” It’s so stern and she’s so close, he feels himself start to harden. “Give me my phone.”

So he relents, lowers his arms and lets her take it from his hand. Her fingers brush his palm and he’s worried he’s going to whine at the touch.

She turns the phone over in her hand, looks at her messages with Nora, and quickly types out a response freeing her for the evening. She looks up at Roman when she is done. “Okay, now tell me why I did that.” 

“I don’t know that you won’t get more mad if I say.”

“Roman.” 

“I think they’re on a date. Charlie and Nora, I think they may be dating, and Charlie might have expressed concern that they’re evening might be cut short.”

“You’re helping your assistant get laid.” 

“I’m supporting my people when they ask for assistance.”

“You stalked your way into my room and held my phone hostage so you could get cool boss points with your twenty something assistant who is significantly batting above his weight with Nora.” 

“He’s a good kid,” Roman defends. 

“He’s a golden retriever.” 

“He likes you, told me to get you champagne and chocolates. Always said I was unfair.” 

“It sounds like he likes Nora and wants Nora’s day to be easier.” 

“Exactly, he’s a good kid.” 

They are still standing pretty close together, in her room, in his dead dad’s house. It seems to hit them both at the same time, but results in opposite reactions. She takes a step back as he takes a step forward. They’re still staring at each other. 

“I should get some work done,” She says softly.

“Yeah,” he exhales slowly, not realizing he’s been holding his breath. “I should get back down stairs, I guess.”

She is technically blocking his exit, and hasn’t made a move to let him pass. He can’t help glancing down to her lips, her chest, her hands. He breaths out, “or…” 

“Or?” the smirk has returned 

“We could,” he swallows, searching her eyes for any signal he’s gone to far, “talk.”

He sees a new intensity in her eyes, “Roman. You’re a disgrace. Honestly, what would your family think? You sneaking into my room, like some hormonal teen, begging to get off, you are such an embarrassment.”

He’s instantly hard, but doesn't know what he’s allowed to do. His hand stops and hovers over the front of his pants, terrified to break eye contact. 

“You’ve always been a disappointment.” 

He can’t help himself, his hand makes contact. “Yeah?” 

“Oh yeah. You’re a sick fucking animal.” Her eyes follow the frantic movement of his hand and she makes a decision. Looking around until she finds what she needs, “Get in that bathroom,” she moves so he can pass to her en-suite. “And don’t come out until you have done something yourself.” 

He does as he’s told, the friction of his pants become too much. He gets in the room, turns to face the door as she pulls it closed from the other side. 

“What are we going to do with you? Little dick thinks he’s the smartest boy in the room, needs a prize every time he doesn’t piss himself in a meeting. You are revolting Roman, a pathetic little weasel.“

He’s so close, pushing into his hand against the door, his face buried in her robe, he can smell her perfume, her voice the only thing in his mind. “You’re nothing, what if they could see you now.” She says and he is coming, making a mess of his hand and the robe. 

It has to have been a couple minutes, he’s not sure he can move. He’s resting head and body onto the door, slowly getting his breathing back to normal. He can’t hear her anymore on the other side of the door, he knows he has to move at some point, she hasn’t invited him to sleep on her bathroom floor. 

Reluctantly, he pushes off the door, straightens himself, wipes his hand on her robe, zips and buckles his pants. He takes a couple breaths before stepping out into the room. She’s at her laptop across the room, sitting on the bench at the end of the bed, just working away. He wants to clear his throat, say something that makes everything normal and okay, but all he comes up with is, “Good talk, Gerri. I’m going to,” he clears his throat, suddenly remembering how his voice used to crack in his teens. He shuffles closer to the door still facing her, grabbing the knob behind him, “Leave you to it.” 

She doesn’t even look up, “Night Rome.” 

He thought yesterday was bad. He can’t look at her without his pulse starting to race. Charlie is mighty smiley which is a small win. He tells Kendall he has to leave early, suggests they might all benefit from cutting out early, claims it’s been so productive so far, it’s just a matter of efficiency. To his surprise Kendall agrees. 

They do another pair activity and because God is trying to punish him for all his past misdeeds he gets paired with Gerri. She slides into the seat next to him, reluctant to acknowledge his presence. Kelly instructs them to write down the 4 biggest gaps they see in leadership. 

Roman has done enough of these to know he’s going to have to switch papers with Gerri. She’s already writing like it’s a fucking race. He can’t make out what she’s writing. He clicks his pen, and stares at his legal pad. 

He writes out: 

**Waystar-FuckCo Leadership**

Merriam-Webster’s definition of Mouth-Breather: Ken-doll  
Merriam-Webster’s definition of Dull: Karl  
Merriam-Webster’s definition of Rockstar: Roman  
Merriam-Webster’s definition of Icy: Gerri  
Kelly has them exchange with their partners and even before he can read it he’s smiling. 

**Leadership Activity**  
This is a waste of time.  
This is such a waste of time.  
This is a fucking waste of time.  
COO wears too much hair gel. 

Kelly asks them to each provide the best item from everyone’s partners list that they had not thought of as she writes them out on a large paper. He’s impressed with whatever trite bullshit Gerri comes up with so quickly. He uses her number 4 and gets a good chuckle out of everyone, including Kelly who skips adding it to the board. 

They break for lunch, and Kendall announces they will wrap it up there, and he will work with Kelly and individuals to take the items they’ve discussed and implement them into “real” solutions. 

He thinks about calling her on Sunday night, but knows it would be too much. Monday morning when he gets to the office he has to stop himself from checking her office just to see her. They have the executives meeting at 9:30 which he can wait for. 

“You have the 9:30 meeting and then should be tied up in the OSHA new regulations summary and strategy session from 11-3.” Charlie tells him when he gets into the office. “Your trainer asked to shift your session to 6:45, I told him that should be fine.” 

“Sounds like such a fun day,” he says sarcastically. 

He makes it through the executives meeting and the regulations briefing without wanting to die which feels like an accomplishment. Once they finish providing the specifics about the changes and their expected impact the lawyers leave, so he, Gerri, and Frank can discuss strategy. 

“I think all their proposed changes and exemptions sound fine.” He says starting them off. 

“Of course you do,” says Gerri under her breath. It even warrants an eyebrow raise from Frank.

He looks at Frank, “Would you excuse us Frank, we can call you back in once we’ve made some traction.”

“Right, okay, that’s fine as long as everything’s,” he doesn't know what to say, “stable here.” He looks between them. 

“Thanks for your concern Frank, we are fine.” Gerri says, dismissing him. 

They wait for Frank to leave and the door to close before speaking again. 

“Swell,” he says sarcastically, just staring at her. When she doesn’t blink he presses harder, “You just being a dick about this thing for no reason or…” 

She genuinely laughs, basically in his face. “You’re more of an idiot than I figured if you thought that was good advice.” 

“You are so fucking impossible, do you know that? Jesus.” He clenches and un-clenches his fist, “so obviously you have a different thought, mind sharing with the class. Fucking always have to show off you’re the smartest in the room.” 

“Well someone has to be, we can’t all just be charm, jokes, good looks and the right last name. Some of us have to know what the fuck they’re doing from time to time.” 

He steps closer to her, then realizes where he is, looks out the large glass walls that make up his office. He steps back and she does the same. They just stare at each other for a couple more seconds, before he clears his throat. 

“So,” his voice cracks a little and he tries to re-clear, “I assume you have a different strategy for the OSHA stuff?” 

“Yes,” she nods a little as she says it. 

“Okay. Well, we can do that then.” 

“Great” she says, shifting to face the door, “great,” a little softer with less meaning behind it. She steps out to get Frank, and they continue on the three of them, Gerri leading the planning. Roman finds it hard to concentrate, his mind revisiting being so frustrated and close to her again and again. 

They break up about 4 with a new strategy. He putts around for a couple more hours, bothers Cyd with some planning and structure questions, before heading out to meet his trainer. By the time he makes it home he is dead tired and the horniest he’s ever been in possibly his whole life. He feels like everything is on the edge. 

He’s climbing on to his bed, while pulling up her contact before flopping down and sliding down his pants. 

She picks up on the third ring, “What now Roman.” 

“You’re such a fucking bitch you know that.” He says with no venom or real belief behind it.

“You’ve got shit for brains,” she replies. 

“Yeah?”

“Oh yeah, you’re a disaster Roman, guided by your little cock, nothing else.” 

He’s breathing harder now, his pace set, totally focused on her voice. 

“Everybody knows, little slime puppy, your whole family, the business, you’re the constant fuck up.” Her voice is deeper, the words coming slower.

“What else am I?” he practically moans. 

“A revolting little worm, led around by your pathetic dick, looking for anything to spray your seed, you’re a sick fucking animal.” 

He comes, can’t help himself, he sighs her name as he catches his breath. By the time he refocuses, she’s already hung up. 

It’s a small mercy, or possibly a curse, but they don’t see each other again until Friday. He was a little salty that she hung up on him Monday night and hasn’t called her since. Got himself off every night to the memory of her dark, angry eyes, and picturing her lips saying those awful things to him. 

He doesn’t know what to do but wait her out. It’s 6:30 pm when Charlie saunters into his office. 

“What’s put the pep in your step?” He basically mocks. 

“Date night,” he gives an endearing smile, “Gerri has a date which means Nora has the evening off, likely tomorrow too.” 

Roman’s blood runs cold. “Good for you man. Go on, get yourself all dolled up, I’ll be heading out in less than an hour.”

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, go man, win her over.”

“Thanks,” he’s heading out the office door. 

He tries to let it not bother him. 45 minutes later his jaw is aching from how hard he’s been clenching it thinking about Gerri’s plans. He takes a subtle stroll around the office and sees she’s still there, Nora’s desk empty. 

Like a bug to a light, he can’t help himself, hates every step he takes to her office door. She doesn’t look up when he steps in, so he just waits. 

Finally she looks up, “Yes?” 

He just hovers around the door, with nothing to say, no plan here, just stares. 

“Roman, did you come in here for a reason or just to loiter?”

He fiddles with his watch, “Just thought I'd check in, see how things were going.”

“Fine, just wrapping up a few things.” 

“Oh yeah, good plans?” 

She doesn’t look up, totally focused on her typing, “Plans yes, if they are good, that has yet to be seen.” 

He swallows, “Looking for alternatives?”

It makes her look up at him, her fingers pausing over the keys, “I guess that depends on the offer.” 

He didn’t have a plan coming in here, and finds himself out of his depth. 

“Japanese Whiskey?” 

She makes a face like it’s not a great offer. 

“Daniel Craig movie?”

She tilts her head like that might be better. 

“Sushi?”

“Sounds like a wonderful evening you’ve got planned for yourself, but I will have to decline.” 

It hurts, which makes him angry with her and himself for thinking this was going to end someplace else. “Okay fuck me, got it. Well have a fucking grand time.” He leaves her office with less dignity then he’s typically comfortable with. 

He gets nauseatingly drunk and regrets every decision he’s ever made when he wakes up the next day. There is a bullshit Waystar charity thing tonight that he has absolutely no way of getting out of. He works out with his trainer and feels like utter shit. 

Roman knows he can’t get drunk at this thing, not sure his brain could take it honestly, and he is representing the company and family. He’s arrived late, but in time for the seated dinner where he is between Shiv and Kendall. Rava is a surprise, he wasn’t expecting that. They all listen to Connor describe his flat tax plan, all the while Roman can feel his IQ points ticking away. It’s a relief when Willa starts to describe her upcoming play. 

After dinner he makes his way over to the bar, trying to pace himself for the evening with an Old Fashioned he plans on sipping over the next hour. Wading through the crowd on his way back to his seat, he finds Charlie and Nora. 

“Hey guys,” he interrupts their conversation, but he doesn't really care. 

“Roman! How’s it going? Do you need anything?” Charlie asks. 

“No I'm good, having a great time. How are you two enjoying yourselves?” He says with a smirk. 

“It’s a wonderful event, happy we could help and be a part of it.” Nora says.

“Don’t work too hard, enjoy yourselves too.” He’s turning to leave when he sees Gerri headed their way. “Okay, maybe that won't be possible.” He moves to the side to open the table to accept her as she arrives. 

“Roman,” she nods curtly, “I don’t mean to interrupt, Charlie, Nora, Eve needs some help wrangling the silent auction.” 

“Absolutely, you look lovely by the way, I love that color,” Nora says before slinking away, Charlie on her heels. 

“She’s right, very nice, the ice queen moniker made literal.” He smirks, happier with himself than he deserves to be. 

She sighs, which is not as fun. “You look like shit.” 

“Well I had whiskey for two last night, turns out, I’m not as young as I used to be.” 

She ignores him, “How terrible do you think Kendall’s speech is going to be?” 

“Oh you haven’t heard? He was on the Lampoon, it’s going to kill,” sarcasm dripping from his voice. 

“You Roys, can’t help yourselves, can you?” 

“Oh yeah?” he’s going to finish his drink faster than he intended. 

“Just crave total humiliation.” 

It makes his heart jump. “How was your night, plans end up fruitful?”

“Honestly, fairly dull, I probably would have been better off with some Daniel Craig and whiskey.” 

“Can’t win them all I guess.” 

There is a natural lull in the conversation and he is inclined to run away, back to his table for more riveting conversation about Tom’s dog and Kendall's nerdy ass kids. But she surprises him, “They do seem pretty chummy.”

“Who’s that?”

“Our assistants.”

“Oh he’s in love with her, no doubt. I just hope she is easy on him when she breaks his heart.”

“Why do you think she’ll be the one doing the heart breaking?” 

“Because she’s out of his league, and one day she’ll wake up and realize it and move on.” 

“Aren’t you the romantic.” 

“Roman, the romantic, it’d be too much, the world couldn’t handle it.” He finishes his drink, “You do look lovely, I think I’m going to get myself another and watch my brother blow himself. Hope you have a wonderful evening.” 

She’s so hot and cold he feels like a fucking lunatic. Her presence is a constant frustration, she is either purposefully making his life harder or mocking him or playing fucking mind games that make him so hard he could cut granite.

Kendall’s speech is okay, a lot of awkward slow, sad laughs which is never great. He feels bad for the guy, thinks to offer to do it next year, but can’t think of a way to make it not sound like he shit the bed and his ex-wife is there so maybe he’ll let him have tonight.. 

There is some dancing and additional refreshments, which is when he typically leaves for the evening. He spots Rava and Ken out on the dance floor, gently swaying. He’s honestly happy for the guy. Doesn't know how many chances he gets, but is happy he could make it work for his family. There’s no fucking chance Grace would pick up his calls. Not like he’d want her to at this point. He leans over and kisses Shiv on the cheek, tells her he’s headed out. 

When he gets outside, he sees Gerri is also waiting for a car. The coward in him wants to run away, hide back inside. Instead he swallows his pride and sidles up next to her. 

“What? Leaving so soon? But surely your carriage doesn’t turn into a pumpkin until midnight.” 

The sigh she replies with isn’t a good one. Like he may have pushed her too far. She looks over her shoulder at him, a mixture of tired and disappointed cross her face. 

“Right,” she breathes out. 

“I drank most of the whiskey, but the offer still stands.” She gives him a look, like she’s considering it but really thinking of how to let him down. He regrets asking, like now he’s just a sad loser who is following her around asking for dates she clearly will never give him. 

Her car arrives and she nods slowly, inviting him in. He can’t think of a time they’ve been just the two of them together in a car. Her driver clarifies their final location, and she tells him home, which surprises him, but there is something to be said for home field advantage. 

It’s a 15 minute drive with traffic and she’s on her phone most of it, the silence making him itch. They arrive and he follows her through her lobby to the elevator. It’s quiet for a Saturday night. 

“Nice place,” he offers as the elevator’s doors close. 

“Thank you,” she sounds genuine. 

Inside, she pulls off her shoes just inside the door and sets them on a chair with her purse and shawl. 

“I’m going to change, the bars over there, serve yourself whatever.” She disappears down the hall. 

He pours himself a generous double of Johnnie Walker green. He pulls off his jacket and tie, loosens his cuffs. She returns, hair pulled up, a long skirt, flowy cardigan over a silk tank top. He wants to touch every fabric, feel the warmth of her skin below it. He’s staring, he can’t help himself. It seems to make her a little uncomfortable, because she pulls the sides of her sweater round herself and over her chest. 

She ushers him to her living room, where there is a large couch and tv. She pulls out her phone and presses a couple buttons and suddenly Spectre is queued up. Of course she's even more technology savvy than him. It took Roman 4 days to figure out how to get his sound system to work and he still needs 4 remotes to turn everything on. 

Gerri is seated just off center of the couch, her feet up on the ottoman coffee table. He doesn't really know where to put himself. They aren’t friends, not really, not yet. They aren’t lovers. This isn’t quite a date but also not just a hang out as friends. He could sit next to her, yawn out and get an arm around her shoulder but even playing it out ironically it feels pathetic. It’s a very strange feeling, being over 35 years old, using a movie as an excuse for hopefully getting a hand job from your co-worker. Like he’s 16 again, and nothing has changed. He settles in about 6 inches from her, but puts his feet up next to hers so they are touching. She doesn’t move away which he takes as a good sign. 

He sips his glass, resting it on his upper thigh. Once Bond has made it out of Mexico City and his attention starts to lag. He’s pulling his glass down from his face when he feels her hand on his, asking for the glass. He complies, and watches her take the glass to her lips, swallow the amber liquid and rests it back on his leg where he takes it. Her hand stays, resting on his inner, upper thigh, and any chance of him focusing on the movie is gone. 

It’s an invitation and he doesn't want to be rude, so he polishes off the glass and sets it on the console table behind Gerri. He settles his hand onto the back of her neck, gently playing with the hair there. This is more than they’ve ever touched each other. He’s not sure where the line is, if there is one he can cross. 

On screen Bond is seducing Sciarra’s widow, and he knows there must be something there for her because she takes a longer breath than normal, her hand sliding a little farther up his leg. It’s too much for him, he twists his body, leaning over and kisses her neck. She seems struck by it, a little startled, but relaxes quickly, her other hand grasping the back of his head. 

It all happens pretty quickly after that, he switches to the other side of her neck, she touches him over his pants, he tightens his grip in her hair. When their mouths finally meet, it’s all clashing teeth and fighting tongues, neither willing to let the other lead. She pulls on his hair sharp enough that he’s willing to concede to her, and her pace is exquisite. He’s never enjoyed this quite this much. He maneuvers enough so he can push her down, laying her out across the couch, hovering over her. His hand slides up to her breast, the warmth of her beneath the silk. She moans, motivating him to continue. Pausing to remove his dress shirt, he looks her over, lips puffy, eyes dark, hard nipples showing through her wisp of a shirt. 

It’s a new feeling for him, how he desperately wants to fuck her, but not like this, not on her couch while Daniel Craig out runs a helicopter down a ski hill. He pivots back, bunching up her skirt, sliding his hand up her legs. He’s rewarded with a breathy sigh. Checking to make sure he’s still in good territory, he looks up at her face, sees her closed eyes. He continues, his confidence boosted as he pulls a scrap of lace down her legs, just the possibility she put them on for him gets him moving faster. He replaces his fingers with his mouth, fully enjoying the reaction that pulls from her. It’s not instantaneous, but he’s able to take her direction and provide the stimulation she's begging for until she falls apart. She shutters, stutters her breath, softly says his name as she comes down. 

He slides back over her to recapture her lips, forgetting momentarily he’s covered in her. She doesn’t seem to mind, as she sucks his tongue into her mouth. He can’t even think about her touching him, knows he’ll come instantly. Her hands are on his pants, un-buckling them and sliding them down, past his hips and down his thighs. He kicks them the rest of the way off, then stopping her before she can slide her hand into his briefs. Takes her hand and pulls it up towards her head, pinning it there. He pulls back a little, checking with her and sees the same dark intensity in her eyes. He drops his hips, his covered erection pressed to her center. She pivots her hips to increase the friction and he takes it as a green light, burying his face in her neck. 

“Fuck,” he exhales on his first thrust. “You’re so fucking perfect.” He doesn’t know if she can hear him, doesn't really care, it feels too good. 

She grabs his ass with her hand that’s free, and he falters his pace. “So fucking pushy,” he whines. 

“So fucking needy,” she replies, her voice is rougher then he’s used to, lower, sexier. 

“Such a bitch,” he practically chokes out.

“Such a cunt,” she bites at his ear and he’s done. 

It’s a couple of seconds before he can think again, “Sorry,” he says but he’s not exactly sure what he’s apologizing for, the mess he’s made, collapsing on her, the words. 

She just pets the back of his head, rubs his back for a second, then pushes him lightly on his shoulder, to let her up. She stands, her legs much more stable than his will be. She smooths down her skirt, ignoring the wet patch. He pulls his pants back up, uncomfortably fastens them.

Behind her, Q and M are racing around London. 

He swallows, “So, that’s new.” 

She chuckles very softly, “Very observant.” 

“I quite enjoyed that,” he pauses, to see if she’ll provide any addition here, but she doesn’t. He stands up, feeling more like a doofy teen then he did when he was 14. “Okay, so again, that was very nice.” He does his best to look her in the eye, she looks a little smug and it makes his head fuzzy. 

“Fuck me, well I’d love to stay and snuggle, but it’s awfully tropical in my pants right now,” that makes her actually laugh. 

She leads him to the door, picking up his jacket and tie on the way out, opening the door for him. He kisses her cheek on his way past her. “Thank you for the whiskey and Daniel Craig and,” he flounders. 

“Tropical pants?” she offers, giving him a smirk that makes him want to take her back to the couch. “Good night Rome.” 

He’s late to the office Monday. Charlie lightly reprimands him, following him into the weekly check in. The only seat left is next to Gerri and takes it without a word. He’s more fidgety then normal, the secret of what they did on his mind, along with being unprepared to talk about what his calendar has for this week. His leg is bouncing and his fingers tapping on his chair arm. He can’t listen to Tom talk anymore. 

Gerri leans forward and writes something on the notepad in front of her then pulls it up with her to hold in her lap. He looks over and in her sprawling script he sees: behave.

His body stops. Feet and hands stuck in place. She writes again, tilting it ever so slightly when it was done: good boy. 

He hates that it makes him feel good to read it. He focuses the rest of the meeting not on the content but on holding his body still and not making a fuss. When they finally get out Roman follows her out of the conference room. He thinks about following her right into her office, let her know just what he thinks of her little note scheme, but Charlie is waiting for him in the hall to corral him to his next meeting. 

He doesn’t really see her again until Wednesday when they are reviewing an acquisition proposals. It amazes him, how what used to frustrate him about her now turns him on. Maybe it was always the same thing. The smirk she gets when she knows she has someone trapped in an argument. The way her speech slows down when she thinks someones too dumb to follow. The way her tone goes up to gloat when she’s won. He just wants to let her win to kiss that dumb smile off her face. 

He stops in her office on his way out that night, she’s one of the only ones left on the floor. 

“Pretty impressive showing in there today,” he slips in and slides into the chair across from her desk. 

“Why thank you.” She’s smiling and which means she in fact had a lot of fun tearing those guys to shreds and is happy it shows. 

“Victory dinner?” he offers, looking down at his phone to make it seem casual. When she doesn’t immediately respond, he cautiously looks up. 

“Roman, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.” 

It’s a rejection that is likely couching a larger rejection he isn’t ready for. “You don’t want to or you don’t think you should?”

“I don’t think what you want is dinner, and if I let you come over, that’s just guaranteeing a repeat of previous events,” she clears her throat, “which is unsustainable.” 

“You’re saying you don’t want to be my fuck buddy?” he leans forwards, towards her desk. To which she responds by pushing back, leaning into her chair. He tries not to seem annoyed, he doesn’t want to feel annoyed by this, by her decision. He feels like shit, like this was the first thing he was excited about and liked that he had since his life blew up, and now it’s gone before it even started.

“I’m sure you’ll find someone better suited shortly, I’m sorry, I just don’t think I’m up for it,” she clears her throat again, “ what you’re looking for.” 

“It’s the most generous I’ve been dumped after the first date,” trying to laugh some part of this off. It certainly wasn’t what he was expecting, but that’s what he gets for expecting anything. “Didn’t realize I was that bad a lay.” Trying to save some face or just joke his way out of this humiliation. He’s good at being sexually dis-satisfying. 

She looks genuinely sad at that, “It was a stimulating evening.” 

He scrubs his hands over his face, and then gets out of his chair and steps around it, “Why would you even let me come up then?” he asks softly but then feels horrible about it, “Sorry, that was shitty, I didn’t mean that.” She looks sad for him and he can’t stand her pity. Standing up he heads for the door, not sure what he can say without coming out rash or vulnerable and pathetic. He doesn't even have it in him for a courtesy goodbye. 

He calls Kendall from the car, asks if he could take on the Asian Pacific site reviews, for the VP who had a family emergency requiring him to return home. He suggests Frank could serve in his place in the office and he will get daily check ins.

He calls Charlie, lets him know the new opportunity. Charlie begins their travel bookings and itineraries, they would be heading out mid day the next day.

He brings Frank along to the morning meeting, as for the next couple weeks he’ll be forced to attend anyway. Kendall announces the news, thanking him for agreeing to step in with such short notice.

Roman tries not to look at Gerri, but he can tell she’s frustrated. He meets Charlie in the hallway on the way back to his office which was a relief but was seemingly less of a deterrent to Gerri than he assumes. She follows them into his office.

“Roman, a word?” she's looking at Charlie, who likely would listen to Gerri over him no matter what. She waits until Charlie leaves. “You’re shipping yourself off to Asia?”

“Tony Martinez’s kid is sick, he had to cancel the rest of the trip, it only makes sense for the executive with no kids, family, girlfriend, obligations, to step up and fill in. Turns out I'm the only pathetic loser who meets all of those criteria.”

“Why would you do that.” She says.

He looks up at her, “It's like a month and a half, Frank has everything under control here, I don’t see what the big deal is.” 

She crosses her arms and gives him a look that said she knows he’s complete bullshit. “I don’t understand how,” she pauses to collect her words, “I don’t understand this as a response.” 

But he’s really not in the mood of this. “It’s a 12 hour time difference for most of it, so mornings will probably be best if you need anything, I doubt you will, but Charlie is coming, so he’s a resource as well. Frank can handle everything better than me anyway. Sort of what you wanted from the start.” 

He walks out, leaving her behind in his office alone. 

Charlie pouts the first three days. Roman suspects it’s missing Nora, but he doesn't have it in him to ask. He doesn’t really want to hear about how well their relationship was going when his crashed and burned the second he started to like the woman. It had been 3 really strange weeks, he hadn’t really grasped that until he was on the plane over. He runs the conversation over in his mind on repeat. He started it all, he pushed to continue, but he was so certain she was enjoying herself. A panicked part of him wonders if she was just going along with it as part of her job. Just the thought makes him so embarrassed and guilty he never wants to see her again. 

They visit the park and offices in Shanghai and Beijing each for a couple of days before going to Seoul and Busan. They talk through performance metrics, improvements, capital investment needs. It’s exceedingly boring but he can appreciate how much work everyone is doing to prove the viability of the investment. He has a standing 7 and 7 call with Frank, and it’s a nice routine. They begin building out the proposals and assessments based on what he’s learning. He has 3 days no site visits and he gets enough time to pull together the actual report he owes. He sends it off to Frank as he’s getting on a plane for the Malaysian leg of the trip, focused on hotel and cruises.

His phone is ringing, and he doesn’t think he can move. All the travel and staying in new places and different food has started to really take its toll. 

“Yeah?” he answers.

“Sorry, earlier than normal today kid.” Frank says. 

Roman looks at the clock, it’s a little after 5. He collapses back down, puts the phone on speaker. 

“S’okay, whats up?” He’ll let Frank prattle on and get up in a few minutes. He went to bed with his laptop next to him, he taps on the keys to wake it up. 

“Did you do something to extra piss off Gerri recently?” Frank asks slowly like he’s uncomfortable with the question. 

“My mere existence isn’t enough, I have to try now?” Roman pathetically attempts a joke. “Why? Did she say something?”

“I forwarded on your report, what she sent back was,” he pauses, “well you’ll see.” 

He pulls open his email, finds Franks message and opens up the attached file. Scrolling through, its a fucking crime scene. Gerri redlined it to an inch of its life. It makes him sit up, pull his laptop into his lap. 

“Jesus.”

“Yeah, I’ll give you time to go through it but, it’s not like she has an issue with the content, all the argument and narrative is left intact. I’m sort of at a loss, I figured maybe you said something rude to her or pissed her off before you left, because I’ve never seen her this,” he chooses his words carefully, “petty, before.” 

“Yeah, no, I don’t know, I basically just did what she said to do and told her we’d be working through you for a little while. This is, well, a lot to absorb I guess.” 

“Don’t feel like you need to do it all, like I said, it’s a good report, you’ve got great ideas and plan in there, it’s already valuable, I was just shocked when I saw her response. It must have taken her hours. I just couldn’t imagine why she’d be so motivated is all.”

“I’ve got a free day, I’m planning on extending out the end of the trip a couple days I think, stick around Singapore. I’ll work through it today, revise and then send it on to Kendall and the rest. Thanks for following up Frank.” 

He orders breakfast up to the room, stares out the window for a while as he waits. He pulls back open the report, and Gerri’s version, wishing the coffee in his hand also had contained alcohol. Frank is right, some of the notes and corrections are down right petty. It feels outright hostile in the beginning. But past the introduction and background he starts to laugh. The comments are pretty funny, and she clearly is better at forming an argument than he is. It reminds him of the emails they exchanged on the plane. Their weird form of flirting. He starts updating the report, adding her flourishes, refining his prose, formatting the structure. He replies to the ones he thinks are stupid in her copy, adds little edits to her edits, just to prove he has a voice too. 

It’s mid-morning when he finishes, sends the final product out to Kendall, Frank and the rest of the team. He sends a different version to Gerri. 

His phone rings, 20 minutes later, he’s watching F1 races on his laptop.

“Hello?” 

“You’re a fucking nuisance you know that.” Gerri says. It’s around midnight in New York and she doesn’t sound particularly tired. 

“Nice to hear from you too, Geraldine. You read my report, I take it.” He’s feeling smug, like he’s won a cold war to make her call him first. 

“Oh yeah, riveting stuff, always looking for an opportunity to just pull your little dick out and show it to the class aren’t you?”

He doesn’t know what to do here, she told him they needed to stop, rejected his invitation to dinner. And then three weeks later is sending him sneering emails, and this. This is the other thing. 

“I aim to please.”

“Like you could provide anyone any pleasure.” 

He’s hard, and pushing the laptop aside, races totally forgotten as his hand down snaking into his joggers. 

“Yeah? I can think of a time when that might not have been the case,” his breath coming slower, harsher. 

“I can’t believe I let you touch me, rut up against me like the sick fucking animal you are.” 

He’s too close already, remembering her body beneath him, the weight of her breast in his hand, her breath on his neck. 

“Got off on it too, didn’t you,” he chokes out, “came apart from my dirty mouth? What does that make you?”

He hears a sharp intake of breath,maybe a little moan. 

“You’re disgusting Roman. A fucking embarrassment.” 

He lasts less than three more insults. Spilling over himself, a fucking disaster just like she says. She hangs up, no goodbye, and if he had to bet money on it, she was busy finishing. 

They don’t talk for the rest of his trip. He hears from Charlie that Nora’s been extra stressed lately, apparently Gerri has been extra wound up. Some part of him felt a little pride about that, like he contributed to that in some way. When it's all wrapped up, he sends his second report out, and heads to Singapore for a couple extra days, wandering around in a baseball cap eating everything he sees. He never likes traveling alone, spent most of his life hopping between relationships so he never really had to be just with himself. By the last day, he’s ready to be home, in his own bed at night, getting his ass kicked by his trainer after a long day at work. It strikes him, the easy slow transition he’s made into being a working normal human, all routine and sensibility. It makes him wonder what his Dad would think of him now. 

His first week back is pretty easy, everyone just catching him back up. He spends a lot of time with Frank. He’s wrapping up on Friday, excited to go home and sleep for the entirety of the weekend when there is a knock on his door and Gerri pops her head in. 

“Welcome back.” She says softly, slipping in but hovering around the door. 

“Thanks, I don’t think I’ll be volunteering to go on another globetrotting adventure until Charlie gets less homesick, but good experience overall.” 

She hums at that and moves more into the room, standing by the chairs across from his desk. It’s the first time he’s seen her a little unsure of herself. “I felt I should apologize,” she starts, but he doesn’t let her finish, “No need.” He replies. 

“Well I should, I said I wasn’t up for it and you respected the boundary and then I didn’t let it go.” 

He chuckles softly, “I’m serious Gerri, no need to apologize, I clearly fucking enjoyed it, you can disrespect my boundaries whenever you’d like. If that’s what I get, I’m all about it.” 

She frowns at that. “I’m confused. What is it you want?” She emphasized “you” in a way that made him feel on the spot. 

“To go home and sleep for a year.” 

“That’s not what I mean.” 

“I know.” 

“So?” 

“I don’t really see the point in this exercise if it’s just going to amount to you rejecting me again.” 

“That’s not what you really want though.” 

“Fuck you, don’t tell me what I want.” 

It gives her pause. 

“It was a game, you were fucking with me.” 

“What?” he’s actually mad.

“Your Dad would play a different kind of mind game, much more vicious and vindictive, not similar in nature to yours obviously, but I can recognize a Roy game when I’m faced with one.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? You think I was playing you?” 

Her face tightens in confirmation. “You’re flirty sure, but obviously whatever it was you were initially trying to prove was successful and I was clearly susceptible, so I figured we could move on and save me the embarrassment of whatever was to come, but obviously I’m attached and your fucking impossible to read.”

“Gerri, I like you. Sorry I didn’t send fucking roses or do the champagne and chocolates, I thought,” he gestures between them, “we had an understanding, with the arguments and insults and the other stuff. But if you thought, if it was something else for you, I...” He runs his hands through his hair, realizing he should have used less gel this morning. “I’m not my Dad. I don’t want to be my Dad. I wasn’t trying to embarrass you. I mean in the meetings and stuff sure that was a game, but I wouldn’t with the other stuff.” 

They just stare at each other for a little while trying impossibly to understand each other. 

“I don’t want to make this worse, but I asked you out to dinner and you said no. I thought that meant you weren't interested.”

“Interested in what exactly?” 

“I don't know, dinner, and then whatever, you know the whole stupid thing, holding hands and fucking and making fun of Tom and Shiv and the bullshit together.” 

“Oh.” 

“What did you think it was?” 

“Well, you only date models, I don’t know I thought it was a power game. Like you were somehow putting me in my place by dangling this thing out that I clearly am too weak to reject.” 

“I’m not my Dad, if I want to fuck with people, I’ll fuck with people who don’t matter. I like you, I like working with you, I like when you put me in my place, I like how smart you are, and I’d really like to see you orgasm again.”

“Okay.” 

“Okay.” 

He feels exhausted. 

“I’m tired, it’s been a long week. I need at least 12 to 14 hours of sleep, but maybe you’d be interested in dinner tomorrow?” He’s hopeful. 

“Sounds lovely.” 

“Perfect.”

**Author's Note:**

> A weekend with a Bond movie and Pride and Prejudice and my brain just spiraled. 
> 
> Thanks for hanging in with me on this fun ride!


End file.
